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From beneath the shade one of the many cherry blossoms surrounding an untouched stream, a wind picked up beneath the trees, sending their many pieces up to the sky to join the soft pinks and yellows dusk had brought. They touched upon an omnic and his disciple as they passed, breaking the grounded machine’s meditative state.
Genji followed the petals with his eyes, watching as they fell silently upon the clear, cool waters of the river before him. Glancing up at his master, Zenyatta, he found him to still be deep within self-reflection. Though he tore his eyes away from him and tried to follow suit, he could not-- for within his mind, uncertainty was beginning to arise.
This wasn’t the first time he had been at odds with himself, of course. After his unexpected recovery from the brink of death, Genji had neglected his new body in favor of using it destroy the empire that cast him out with his brother’s blade. But as time passed, it became harder to ignore the fact he was a cross between man and machine, an automaton whose loss of humanity brought him closer to the mechanical forces that had destroyed the world.
In search of a purpose outside of his past life, Genji had wandered aimlessly until he crossed paths with Zenyatta. Though Genji lashed out at him, threatened to cut him down to nothing, the former omnic monk recognized that within this dragon that scoured the earth on its belly and gnashed its teeth, a soul lost to inner conflict resided; and so he followed Genji like a ghost, offering only one resolute suggestion: For the soul to be at peace, one had to first accept the flesh.
When Genji finally broke, finally surrendered himself to the hands of the enlightened, he regretted not doing so immediately. Zenyatta taught him his philosophies, and in turn not only allowed Genji to accept himself, but showed him an unadulterated love and kindness the youngest Shimada brother had never known. The unexpected affection confused and enticed Genji, at after some time he found himself following his master less like a devoted student and more like a lost puppy, unsure of what to do without his presence.
Now as he reflected upon these feelings, Genji tried to avoid calling it “love”. But it was the only thing he knew that could begin to describe what he felt for his master. Zenyatta’s presence put him at ease, made him feel as though the world were as beautiful and kind as he believed it could be. He made him feel whole again, as though he had never lost himself in the first place.
Silently Zenyatta broke his meditative stance, turning his head to his friend. “You seem troubled, Genji.”
From behind his mask Genji blinked up at the floating omnic, the statement startling him out of his thoughts. “I… Why do you think that?” He tried to recover cooly.
“Call it intuition.” Zenyatta drawled out. “Or perhaps I just know you well.” He turned his head up to the sky, darkness creeping in.
“I do not like to see you so conflicted. Tell me, what is wrong?”
Genji continued staring at the omnic, daring not to stir his tongue. He became very aware that he had a heart, suddenly, as it began to beat faster and push blood into his scarred, plaid face.
“Master, I… do not think I can tell you.”
Zenyatta turned his whole body toward Genji to listen, and Genji forced his eyes down to the young grass of the riverside he sat upon.
“I do not want to change how you see me. I don’t want to ruin our relationship.”
Zenyatta floated down gently and touched the side of Genji’s mask with his hand, a hand that was extremely gentle despite its hard wiring. Without thinking Genji placed his palm atop it, keeping it still, as he moved his head back up to face his master. There was a pause between them, a few precious moments where they locked eyes and stood as still as the earth around them.
“…Sensei, I am not sure how I feel about you.” Genji finally admitted, somberly pulling Zenyatta’s hand away. “You have shown me love. You have made me happier than I have been in years. But you do this out of kindness, not out of affection. And I am afraid that…”
He swallowed thickly, dreading his next words. “….I am afraid that I might love you. And I am afraid that you will never love me the same.”
Zenyatta was still, continuing to stare into Genji’s face. The silence instilled dread in the youngest Shimada brother, his heart beating so forcefully now it ached. He should have expected as much; Zenyatta was selfless, pure. Why would he waste his time upon a single disciple?
Then, slowly, Zenyatta sat before Genji on the ground, letting his hands fall to the inner thighs of his folded legs.
“Genji,” He began calmly, his voice ever steady, “I have felt close to you since the day we met. When I finally brought you to accept yourself, I was overjoyed. You said I brought you happiness, that I showed you love. Have you not given me the same?”
The cyborg paused, the clamor of his mind drawing to a stand-still. “Yes,” He whispered, after a breathless pause.
“Then I am afraid I might love you too.”